


kevin 1

by romanticalgirl



Series: December Ficlets 2007 [48]
Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 11-27-07</p>
    </blockquote>





	kevin 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 11-27-07

There are three pictures on Kevin’s bookshelves in front of books he rarely uses but can’t bear to part with – books that Saul has gotten him over the years that he rereads during fits of nostalgia or when his self-esteem has sunk to newfound lows.

The pictures are moments Kevin refuses to forget, moments he never knew anyone might have captured, and that’s why he keeps them. Two are slightly out of focus, but that makes them all the more significant for him, since they’re both from times in his life that are laser-sharp in his memory.

The first one is from when he went fishing with his dad alone for the first time. The rest of the family was back at the campsite, but William had woken up early, raised his eyebrows at Kevin, who was already sitting at the fire, poking the glowing embers with a stick as he read his book. William had taken the book out of Kevin’s hand and tossed it aside – not on the fire, which had been Kevin’s first, not quite irrational fear – and told Kevin to put his coat on.

The rest of the day they’d spent in the boat, talking about everything and nothing. William mentioned a little bit about sports and Kevin mentioned a little bit about debate and the rest was bad jokes, the first dirty joke Kevin ever told, and laughter. They’d come back and it was nearly dark and Kevin could see the worry etched on Nora’s face, but it had been worth it when she’d seen them and seen the fish and declared them hunters and gatherers. Kevin hadn’t corrected her and William had just slapped him hard on the back. 

It was the first time Kevin had ever felt like a man.

The second one is from when Kevin came out. He doesn’t know who took the picture, and he’s almost positive no one would confess to having snapped it, but it’s there, living proof of things that he can’t ever forget, things that define him. He’s in the corner of his father’s study, sitting on the window seat, curled up smaller than he had a right to be at his age. He’s staring off into the distance and the picture is washed out, white and full of glare from the sun streaming in the window, but because of the shadows or the way the curtain falls across the window, you can see the tracks of tears on his skin like shimmering scars that rake his cheeks, and the hint of the burgeoning black eye, staining the skin dark and purple in the corner. 

The third is from the day his father came to his office. They were having a Christmas party and there was champagne and booze and food and people sneaking off into closets and offices that had more privacy than the glass cage Kevin calls his own. He was sitting on the edge of his desk, watching the revelry as he finished up a phone call when he recognized his father moving through the crowd.

William had asked him to be executor of his estate, asked him to be the official lawyer for Ojai foods. He’d asked him, at that moment, to be something Kevin had never thought he’d be and had never thought he wanted to be. A partner in something bigger than his law firm – a part of the family business.

Kevin had nodded and someone had taken a picture from inside the party, the glare reflecting off the glass again, and whoever had taken it had been more than a little drunk, so they’re out of focus and blurry, looking as drunken as the photographer. Kevin likes it though because, even though he and his father look like they’re about to fall, they’re falling in toward each other instead of, as usual, falling apart.


End file.
